


sometimes i wish it was easy

by finkpishnets (orphan_account)



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - High School, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-03
Updated: 2013-01-03
Packaged: 2017-11-23 11:31:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,865
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/621659
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/finkpishnets
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU. Liam and Louis broke up four months ago.</p>
            </blockquote>





	sometimes i wish it was easy

**Author's Note:**

  * For [harriet_vane](https://archiveofourown.org/users/harriet_vane/gifts).



> For [harriet_vane](http://archiveofourown.org/users/harriet_vane/pseuds/harriet_vane). Thanks to [misprinting](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Chathoi/pseuds/Misprinting) for being ever helpful.

Zayn’s saved a seat for him in the hall, and Liam slips into it about thirty seconds before Mr Davies starts the meeting, handing over the extra Coke he’d bought and accepting a handful of Zayn’s Skittles.

It’s the same thing as every year: announcement of the chosen production, audition dates, who to talk to about getting involved with lighting or costumes or set design, and Liam zones out, doodling in the margins of his Maths book and wondering if he’ll have time to get his French homework done before next period.

He doesn’t look towards the back of the room.

Niall waves to him afterwards, barging through a mass of Year Seven’s to catch up with Harry, and Liam nods back and remembers that he has Niall’s number somewhere, from last year, and now he can probably use it again without it being weird.

Zayn’s chatting to Geneva about a book they’re reading for English, and Liam doesn’t want to hang around any longer than necessary but they’re in the same French class and he needs to copy Zayn’s answers or face the wrath of Mrs Edwards, which, as she frequently reminds him, isn’t the best way to start the term.

He’s about to tell Zayn that he’ll meet him outside when someone stops on the steps next to him, and Liam doesn’t need to look up to know it’s Louis. 

He tries to remember how to breathe. 

“Hey,” Louis says, quietly, and Liam takes in his jeans and polo shirt and feels his own uniform weighing him down like a reminder.

“Hi,” Liam says, and he sounds cold to his own ears. He’s rehearsed this moment over and over but it’s a hundred times more awkward than he could have imagined, hurts the same way it’s been hurting for months, and _fuck_.

He isn’t ready for this.

He’s not sure he’ll ever be ready for this.

“We have French,” Zayn says, and Liam realises they’re alone, takes Zayn’s rescue for what it is, and tries not to notice the way Louis’ fingers are curled too tightly around the strap of his bag.

“Right,” Louis says. “French.”

Liam doesn’t say goodbye, but then they’ve had enough of those to last a lifetime.

 

+

 

They’d met properly on a school trip to Paris, the one for all the French GCSE students in Years Ten and Eleven, and it wasn’t like they didn’t know the other existed – their school wasn’t that big and they were both heavily involved in the Drama and Music departments – but it was the first time they ever really talked.

Louis was loud and charismatic and friends with everyone, and Liam didn’t know whether to be jealous of him or just hang on for the ride.

In the end, Louis took the decision out of his hands, tangling their fingers together as they stretched out on someone’s bed, five other people crammed onto the mattress as they all watched dubbed episodes of _The Simpsons_ and flirted over cheap beer the Year Eleven boys had bought from the Off License down the street.

They’d kissed for the first time in the hallway outside Liam’s room, Louis’ feet bare so he could sneak back past the teachers, and Liam’s whole world had shifted on its axis. His fingers were shaking, curled around the collar of Louis’ shirt, Louis’ breath warm against his cheek, and it wasn’t his first kiss but it was the first one that mattered. 

 

+

 

 _Grease_ auditions fly by and Liam’s not surprised by the cast list, learns Danny’s lines and helps Zayn run through Kenickie’s over pizza and FIFA. Niall texts him T-Bird jokes and Harry suggests they wear their jackets around school as soon as the costume department hand them over, declaring them infinitely hotter than the cast of the movie. Liam’s been in every play since he started but this is the first time he’s been the lead; it leaves him buzzing, makes the rest of the school day speed by, and even Louis rounding out their number can’t put a damper on it.

Well, not really.

The thing is, Louis’ still-- _Louis_. He’s still the first person to laugh and the last person to complain, and Liam finds it really hard not to fall back into old habits.

He knew he missed him, he just didn’t know how fucking much.

 

+

 

“You never told me why, you know,” Zayn says one night, the two of them stretched out on the roof outside Liam’s window so Zayn can work his way through half a pack of cigarettes. “I mean, you’re my best friend, obviously I’m on your side, no questions asked, but. You never said.”

Liam follows the shapes of the smoke as it curls around them and remembers Zayn crawling under his duvet, holding him as he cried, spending the first week of summer in Liam’s room with the curtains drawn, just letting him grieve the end of his relationship, and wonders what he did to deserve him.

“We wanted different things,” Liam says, eventually. “We hardly saw each other, at the end. He always had other things he’d rather be doing, better people to hang out with, and I was sat around hoping he’d remember to call. I just couldn’t do it anymore.”

Zayn hums and lights another cigarette, taking a drag before saying: “I doubt he thought anyone was better than you.”

“It doesn’t matter now,” Liam says, sitting up, and Zayn doesn’t push it.

It _doesn’t_ matter anymore.

Or, it shouldn’t anyway.

 

+

 

He doesn’t mean to start a fight, but rehearsals are going horribly and Louis’ still smiling at everyone like they don’t all need to get their acts together, and Liam just _snaps_.

“Why are you even here?” he says, glaring. “Weren’t you supposed to be at the Sixth Form College? Didn’t they want you?”

It’s childish and cruel and Liam doesn’t mean it, not even a little, but there’s relief in seeing the flush on Louis’ cheeks, juvenile as that may be.

“I chose to stay,” Louis says quietly, and Liam scoffs.

“Why?”

Louis looks up at him then, and Liam feels the breath pulled from his lungs even before Louis says, “Why do you think?”

 

+

 

Liam doesn’t go to school the next day, and he must look as bad as he feels because his mum just sends him back to his room and promises to call the school from work and let them know he won’t be in.

He knows he’s hiding, but his head is spinning and he can’t focus on anything except the sadness in Louis’ eyes, and he’d just-- he’d been so sure he knew why they’d broken up, so sure it was because Louis didn’t want him the same way he wanted Louis, so sure Louis was leaving him behind, and now…

Now he’s not sure of anything and that’s almost worse than hating him.

Zayn calls him at break, and Liam tells him he’s fine, just has a headache; Zayn knows him better than that but he lets Liam get away with it anyway, telling him to feel better before heading off to English, and Liam spends the rest of the morning watching TV and half-heartedly attempting to get a head start on his P.E. coursework.

The doorbell rings around one, and Liam curses his sister for her obsessive Amazon orders and runs downstairs, hoping the delivery guy doesn’t judge him too much for still being in his pyjamas.

He’s already uttering rushed apologies as he opens the door, but he stops dead when he finds Louis instead, looking nervous and out of place, as if he hasn’t spent endless hours in Liam’s house over the last year.

“Hi,” Louis says, and Liam blinks, tugging at the hem of his threadbare t-shirt instinctively.

“Hey,” he says, “uh, what--?”

“Sorry,” Louis says. “Zayn said you were ill? And I just, I mean, I wanted to see if you were okay?”

Liam’s not used to seeing Louis like this, isn’t used to him being anything other than comfortable and confidant. The first time he’d met Liam’s family he’d smiled and shaken his dad’s hand, kissed his mum’s cheek, and immediately started helping out in the kitchen. The first time they’d stumbled into bed, Liam’s hands trembling with nerves and need, Louis had run his thumbs across Liam’s cheeks and kissed the anxiety from him, eyes dancing.

This Louis – the awkward, anxious one – is new and unfamiliar, and Liam is hit with the realisation that _he did this._

“Come in,” he says, shaking off the guilt that’s begun to stir in the back of his throat.

Liam leads them up to his room before he remembers that that’s probably not appropriate anymore. Louis’ looking around like he’s memorising the place, though, and Liam takes the time to look at _him_. His hair’s longer, falling into his eyes, and the lines of his arms look more defined through his shirt, and he looks _good_ except for the shadows under his eyes and the frown that doesn’t belong on his face.

“I’m sorry about yesterday,” Liam says after a while, and Louis shakes his head.

“No,” he says. “I’m sorry. I never even told you I was staying here and then I just showed back up. I should have warned you or something, I just-- I didn’t think you’d want to hear from me.”

“That’s not--” Liam starts.

“It’s okay,” Louis says. “You shouldn’t have to deal with your ex all the time, and I guess I just wasn’t ready to let go. You made your choice and I need to respect that.”

“What?” Liam says, and Louis--

Louis looks _heartbroken_. 

“I thought you were bored with me,” Liam says, quietly. “I thought you were leaving me behind.”

“ _Liam_ ,” Louis says, eyes wide. “I-- fuck, I would _never_ …I was freaking out about my exams, and then freaking out about the future, and then making the most of my time with my friends before we all left, and I _never_ meant to make you think--” He shuts his mouth and squeezes his eyes closed for a moment. “I love you. These last few months have been hell. _I miss you._ ”

It’s everything Liam’s been needing to hear for so long, and he feels so selfish for not just talking to Louis, for not thinking about _why_ Louis might not have been around as much; he thought that the year between them had been about _him_ , he hadn’t stopped to think that maybe he didn’t know what that year meant for Louis, and now he looks back on it he realises he never _asked_.

They’re a product of missed communication, and they’re both _so stupid._

“I love you too,” he says, his heart aching with how much he means it. “I’ve missed you so fucking much.”

This time it’s up to him to kiss the anxiety from Louis, and he’s never wanted to do anything more.

 

+

 

 _Grease_ is the best show to date.

Not that it matters.

Everything’s still catching up on them, exams too close for comfort and A Levels on the horizon, but Liam--

Liam’s happy for now, whatever the future holds.


End file.
